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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29822130">hot cocoa for the soul</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/EriSakimoto/pseuds/EriSakimoto'>EriSakimoto</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Naruto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Incredibly Self Indulgent Nonsense, might gai is sexy and deserves more x readers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:02:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,580</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29822130</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/EriSakimoto/pseuds/EriSakimoto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader is the target of an assissination attempt by some rogue shinobi theives, but luckily the Handsome Green Beast of Konoha is nearby. Hot chocolate is required for emotional healing. </p><p>(self indulgent fluff I wrote ages ago when first getting into the Naruto fandom and never posted, but maybe someone will enjoy it)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Maito Gai | Might Guy/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>hot cocoa for the soul</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>No i don't know why I wrote the reader as so aggressively girly, not that there's anything wrong with that. It just seems odd to me now, but eh its not 2009 anymore we can enjoy lipstick and shopping free of ridicule.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>You’d messed up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Big time. Not the usual small, petty mess-ups like wearing red lipstick with a pink top or using the broken ink-qill pen to trace a sealing scroll.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, this was a real world mess-up. Namely, writing an in-depth account of an attack you’d been witness to in a neighboring village. Describing in great (and if you may say so yourself, comedic) detail the rogue ninja’s boss, which had ultimately led to his capture. You hadn’t even realized the statement had been worth anything until the Hokage herself had called you into her office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Great job, she’d said. A wonderful form of vigilante justice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only one problem, she’d said. Now the rest of the rogue ninja’s group were out for revenge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d taken down your address, your daily routine, and said she’d assign a jounin level nin to protect you. She had someone in mind for the job, she’d said, just as soon as he got back from a mission.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That had been five hours ago, and to put it out of your mind, you’d done what you usually did when stressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Go shopping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Honestly, it hadn’t seemed like such a big deal out in the sunlight with a cold tea in your hand searching through handbags. I mean, it’s not like you planned on leaving the hidden leaf village anytime soon by yourself. And were you really supposed to believe that D-rank criminal ninjas were so concerned about one journalist as to launch a full-scale attack?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’d almost completely forgotten your worry over the matter by the time the shadows were growing longer, and the only thing on your mind was getting home and dedrawing a nice hot bath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And here is where you messed up </span>
  <em>
    <span>big </span>
  </em>
  <span>time. Because instead of taking the most crowded, plain-view route home, you shimmied on down the normal way, into the quiet little side streets. Which didn’t bother you at all, until two shapes stepped out of the alleyway, moving quietly as shadows and smoothly as smoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were two men, one smaller than the other. Their faces were uncovered, one thin with sallow cheeks and tired eyes, the other, shorter one looking manic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That took far, far too long.” Said the taller one. “I almost started to think you were shopping to avoid us, but no, turns out you’re just stupid </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> frivolous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your mind works in slow motion. This can’t be what this is right? These things don’t happen in the smack </span>
  <em>
    <span>middle </span>
  </em>
  <span>of Konoha.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…uh, I think there must be some kind of mistake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You try to back up but they round you, far too quickly. The weight of the shopping bags and the cool breeze of the evening weigh heavily on you and you try to feel at your back for your knife, but it’s impossible to reach.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no, no mistake. You’re the girl who was at the bar where we nabbed Takamo a few days ago.” Says the shorter one. He draws a large jagged-edged shuriken from his pouch, easily and with great precision. It makes a scraping sound coming out, and glints in the orange evening light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that’s when it occurs to you in painstaking, slow-motion detail. You are actually, legitimately going to die here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fight or flight finally kicks in, but it’s way too late, and the options it runs through keep coming up empty. First option: bolt and try to outrun them. Which, if they were two regular guys would be fine, ideal even thanks to the adrenaline now pumping through your bloodstream. But you can’t outrun ninjas. That’s like trying to outrun a starving cheeta. And you can’t fight them. Not here, without any of your stuff. You’re too out of practice and too stuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your heart is pounding, and your pulse is painfully thrumming in your ear as they start to move. Reflexively you try to back up only to hit the side of a building (and when did you get backed into the alleyway?!)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe we oughta bring her head to the boss when he gets out of prison?” Says the short one, and his eyes are vicious, he’s clearly enjoying this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah,” Says the other, “Better leave it so they know who it is. There’s no message to be gotten from an unnamed corpse.” He’s all business, no mercy to be had there. To him, a real ninja, this is like slaughtering chickens and </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh good god how did you mess up this bad?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“P-please don’t I’ll…I’ll take the column down, I’ll…” Your back is sliding down the wall, and you’ve gone into tunnel vision mode, eyes thrumming back and forth between them as they approach. “I’ll say I was wrong…c-clear his name, you know…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing. In one swift movement the tall one grabs your wrist, wrenching it upwards so the other has a clear shot to your neck. You flinch, every muscle tensing for the end, but instead there’s a tremendous burst of wind. You’re knocked to the ground, and all the breath leaves your lungs in one sudden thump.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You skitter backwards on your knees and wrists, trying to put as much distance between you and them as you can, but it isn’t much. You hit the corner of the alley, and turn, expecting to see a flash of kunai and your own viscera. But instead you see green.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Green…spandex, stretched tight on thick legs and a rear and a back and…ok, there’s someone standing in front of you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you all right miss?” His voice is deep and unequivocally announcer-esque. He turns to you and you catch a tanned face filled with thick eyebrows and high cheekbones and bright teeth and just </span>
  <em>
    <span>what.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The whole thing is so bizarre after the horror of the last few seconds that you’re almost tempted to laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m OK.” You manage, </span>
  <em>
    <span>or I’m dead and the grim reaper has terrible fashion sense.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“The name’s Might Guy,” Continues the apparent non-reaper, “the beautiful green beast of Konoha. I’ve been assigned to protect you, and just in time it looks like!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Says the shorter ninja, who you can now see beyond the spandex that fills your view, picking himself up off of the ground. “Where the hell did this guy crawl out of?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One of the Hokage’s dogs,” Spits the taller one, unsheathing some sort of longsword from the holster on his back. “Kill him. And don’t go lightly because he’s probably a jounin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” Beams Might Guy (you assume he’s beaming, he sounds like it) “Don’t go easy at all! Take your best shot.” His voice takes a turn, becomes a little sharper, a little more threatening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But for what you tried to do to this young lady, don’t expect me to go easy on you, either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Short guy grunts, makes a rush. You flinch again, keeping your eyes open this time. You have a very realistic image of the guy in front of you being shredded to bits with no resistance, but that isn’t what happens. With a single swift movement Guy brings his left leg around in a wide berth. It connects with the short dude’s ribs with a painful crunch, and he goes absolutely flying, flung like a ragdoll against the nearest building.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The taller one snarls, forming a quick handsign. Two columns of fire appear from the ground, sweeping forward and inward. You duck down, throwing your hands up to protect your face, and feel a quick flash of heat and your body being jolted once again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guy has lifted you and set you a few yards away. He doesn’t say anything but seems to be checking you over as he lets go of you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still OK?” He asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re on fire.” You manage, gasping a little as you try to catch your breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you!” He smoozes, “But I wouldn’t go that far with the skills you’ve just seen. The fire of passion certainly…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no. Your jumpsuit…is literally on fire…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He catches on with a sudden horrified realization, turning around to pat at his shuriken holster which has ignited in flame. Meanwhile, the two rogue ninjas are rounding in, the shorter one limping, a string of curses leaving his lips as he pulls his sword from the rubble of the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better take care of them quickly.” Says Guy. Despite his near brush with a fiery end he still seems optimistic, even a little excited. “You sit tight right here, OK?” A thumbs up, a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“OK.” You choke, nodding. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ah, I’m going to die.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You think.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But you don’t. It only takes about two minutes once he’s left you, apparently now fighting in earnest. The short one makes the same mistake twice, and the second time he’s kicked you can tell from the way his body cracks back and forth like a stalk of wheat he won’t be getting up again. The taller one, apparently a long range ninjutsu user, sends more of his fire style at him but it’s old news now. Guy avoids them with a casual precision that says he is far, far faster than he’s letting on. He downs the man with a single punch once he’s adjusted to the rhythm of his attacks, dodging them easily and sending him flying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of this you watch from the ground, your arms still covered in scorched shopping bags, your hands and elbows and knees grubby with alleyway dirt. It’s there on the ground that things start to click again, and you wish they hadn’t. A few </span>
  <em>
    <span>seconds </span>
  </em>
  <span>later and you would be dead. Really, really dead. Never see your friends and family again dead. Never feel grass or wind or water again, dead. Lifeless, meat dead. Your hands start to shake, but things don’t come to a head until he returns to you, extending a large hand to help you up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to apologize for my tardiness, I was just on my way back into the village when the Hokage assigned the mission...” He begins, and then stops, staring curiously at you. You wonder why but then feel a trickle of wetness on your chin and realize you must be crying.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ah, just wonderful.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” He asks again. You shake your head, feeling some strands of your hair stick to your cheek. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And to think, this morning my biggest problem was making my hair look nice.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s just the near-death experience,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>You want to say.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>“I’m really not the crying type.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>You’d also like to vocalize. Unfortunately, all that seems to want to come out of your mouth at the moment are strangled sobs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Thanks for saving me. Now I’d like to head home, take a long bath, and try to sleep please.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>You would like to say, but instead you stand there crookedly on shaky legs, blubbering like an idiot in front of this Jounin level ninja.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He moves towards you and your frayed nerves make you flinch. But instead of whatever you’re expecting, he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you against his chest. He’s solid and smells like sweat and some kind of aftershave that probably has a ridiculously manly title like </span>
  <em>
    <span>Arctic Bear Saw, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but it’s oddly comforting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” He says, voice still boomingly loud and unperturbed, “Tell me where you live and we’ll get you there. These goons can wait until Anbu shows up, they won’t go anywhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shakily tell him the address and try your best not to squeak as you’re hoisted upright and held aloft as you jump from rooftop to rooftop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re home in an instant it feels like, and he watches you worriedly as you shakily unlock your apartment with the key, holding it open for him to come inside. He hesitates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you think it would be better if I stand guard?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So stand guard,” You say, trying to swallow down your sniffles. “Inside. I’m making hot chocolate. Stress hot chocolate. ‘S very crucial at the moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods, abet confusedly, and follows you in. Your living room is covered in half-finished scroll copying work and you kick it aside to offer him a seat on your couch.  In the kitchen you tie on your apron with an angry vengeance, throwing down your shopping bags and scrubbing the alley dirt off your arms before heating up some milk. When you finally return, you’ve gotten a bit of handle on yourself, and the sight of the slightly singed bowl-cut-clad ninja sitting in the midst of your trendy décor almost sends you into peels of nervous laughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here,” You say, thrusting a cup of steaming hot cocoa complete with whipped cream and heart shaped marshmallows at him. “This is my ‘thanks for saving me, sorry for crying all over you’ gift.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, thank you!” He says, taking the cup from your hand as if it might bite him. “There’s really no need though. It’s my job to protect you now, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t care. Drink it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods, impressive eyebrows furrowed, undoubtedly a bit terrified by the mess of a person you currently are and sets about trying to cool it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a minute of awkward silence you say, “I must look like such a gimp to you. I mean, you guys face death on a daily basis, and I didn’t even get hurt. I just lost control of myself I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Staring death in the face is no easy task,” He says seriously. And you might have taken him seriously if not for the mustache of whipped cream he was in the process of acquiring on his upper lip. “Especially for one who hasn’t committed to the ninja way. It’s no wonder it was overwhelming to be put in that situation, so there’s no shame in…” A pause, a sip, “This is amazing! What’s in this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Milk, cocoa, enough sugar to caramelize a small animal, whipped cream, so on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to let my students try this some time! Er..where was I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pep talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, right! There’s no shame in being emotional about such a thing. But since I’ve been assigned to protect you, I can promise that no such close calls will ever occur again.” He stands suddenly, coming dangerously close to spilling hot chocolate on your rug. “If I can’t protect you without incident until the threat has been officially neutralized, then I’ll fight with my left hand tied behind my back for an entire year!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This odd proclamation is backed up with a beaming smile and a thumbs up from his free hand. You furrow your eyebrows at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh. That seems a little extreme.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s my self-imposed rule.” He says proudly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what do you get if you pull it off?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now it’s his turn to look confused. “I don’t follow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like, you said what you’ll do to punish yourself if you let it happen again. So, what do you get as a reward if you succeed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scratches the back of his head, apparently stumped. “Uh, hm, I hadn’t…that isn’t really a part of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You hmm, grabbing the can of whipped cream off the coffee table and reswirling the top of his mug. “How about, never let me get that close to dying again, and if you do that, I’ll make you hot chocolate anytime you feel like it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He beams, and you instantly feel safer. “Now </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>sounds like a motivator!”</span>
</p>
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